1976
by Lady Pazzi
Summary: A humorous collection of adventures of the infamous Marauders


NOTE: Most characters belong to the lovely JK Rowling. Some plots taken from The Shoebox Project. My friend and I wrote this, so you'll notice a trend of Remus/James/Snape doing something and then Sirius/Peter/Lily. You will also notice the distinctly different styles: mine being the less formal and hers being the wordier. Because she was the former and I am the latter. Still in progress. Also includes implied slash.

Part I: Of Ancestors and Dust

"Ah _shit_!" came a voice from the dark. An infamous voice. A voice that teachers have come to know and dread. A voice that would one day strike fear in the hearts of nearly every person in the magical world.

But for now, it only struck annoyance in the mind of a particularly intelligent rat which had the good sense to sulk off in the opposite direction from the source of the voice.

The year was 1976 and the magical world was growing increasingly troubled. But deep under Hogwarts Castle, one particular Gryffindor fifth-year couldn't give a rat's bottom... Well, he could, but he _wouldn't_.

"_Lumos_," hissed the voice again. The tip of a dark, unevenly cut wand of mahogany cast an eerily faded-looking glow on the dingy oddly-earthen stone walls.

The light reached the speaker. The prominent, but not oversized nose was the most striking trait. The youth's jaw line was strong and uncompromising but the _well_-used pink lips softened the severe bone structure. Were the boy smiling, it would be a sight to make any dentist proud. Dark, expressive eyes danced in the wand light, under the hood of his thick, naturally-shaped eyebrows. Half an eye and a good deal of the wizard's forehead were hidden by unremarkable brown locks. Unremarkable was a good description for each trait separately.

But that was as far from an accurate description of Sirius Black as possible. Not even a columnist from the Daily Prophet could find a less appropriate word.

This begs the question: why is such a handsome person sneaking around in dirty corridors under Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

There are a good variety of responses one could receive:

Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much and want to share—but somehow I don't think this is the answer that you are looking for.

If you asked one of Sirius' teachers, you'd get answers anywhere from "He's _where_?" to "Probably something illegal" to "A _thousand_ points from Gryffindor!"

And if you asked Sirius himself, you'd get something to the affect of "Why the hell not?"

The most accurate and informative answer, however, would be supplied by an omniscient narrator, who would say "Stealing a grimoire from the hidden storage room of Phineas Nigellus" which happened to be a very dark and crowded place.

Thus, the reason for Sirius's "Ah shit!" which was rather wild for running face first into a cupboard of potions.

"This is ridiculous!" another teen grumbled, as he nearly impaled on a particularly nasty-looking torture device. "No offense, Sirius, but your 'venerable ancestor' had _major _issues."

Unlike his friend, his features seemed to have conspired at his birth to make him as eccentric-looking as possible. Jet-black hair stood out in random angles from his skull, giving him the appearance of one who had just stumbled from bed. Mischievous, myopic, hazel eyes glinted from behind thin-framed spectacles which, according to the generous amounts of Spell-o-tape wrapped around the bridge and chip of missing glass on the edge of the left lens, had been broken on numerous occasions.

The nose holding the abused glasses up was long and narrow, but not quite to the point of ridicule. Under this nose was a pair of lips, quirked slightly in an omni-present smirk, which had a tendency of getting the pale cheeks flanking it slapped by a certain red-haired girl in varying, but almost daily circumstances.

The very body to which the head belonged was skinny and awkward, slight (as is preferred in a Seeker such as himself). It seemed fitting that this quirky, eccentric boy should have a quirky, eccentric personality.

He had many names including "Captain", "mate", "bullying toerag", "Mr. (James) Potter" and a large collection of profanities, but he didn't care. At the moment, he was trying not to kill himself.

Sirius made a small dying noise as his eyes crossed from the blow to his head. He stumbled back and stepped on something. An alive something. He swung his lit wand around at the frightened creature, whose eyes glowed from the direct light. A niffler.

"Well, if you've a better idea," Sirius said, doubtfully, kneeling down to the cowering animal upon whom he'd trod, "Of where to find a grimoire… betcha you could find it, eh little guy?" Sirius ruffled the great tuft of hair on the niffler's head. The thing made a noise like rattling purr and made further off into the dark of Nigellus's hidden room.

Taking his place almost instantly was a mass of human limbs topped with a light brown mop of hair.

"Wotcher, Pete. I didn't know there were stairs leading here," Sirius said cheerfully, pulling the heavier-set boy up by the shoulders, as he glanced towards the stairs, which apparently intersected the hallway.

"Neither did I," the pale-faced wizard grumbled.

"There's a good chap," Sirius said, patting Pete reassuringly on the head.

James sneezed violently, trying to expel the cobweb he had just inhaled. "Remind me why we can't just _summon_ the grimoire, rather than plod through all this rot. I have Quidditch practice in half an hour."

"Honestly, James. Have you learned nothing from Remus, even if by accident? Grimoires won't be found by magical means! …but apparently they _can_ be found by magical creatures!" Sirius said suddenly.

"Eh?" Peter asked, before following Sirius's eyes to the niffler who had one paw on a tattered, old book.

James glanced from Sirius to the book and back again dubiously. "Doesn't look like much does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Sirius muttered, ruffling the niffler's tuft distractedly as he opened the frail cover and flipped through it.

"There it is!" Peter said, looking over Sirius' shoulder, startling the poor niffler so that it clung to Sirius' leg.

"Well, now that Peter's caught on and Sirius has made a new friend, shouldn't we get back to the dorm and read it? Remus is helping Madam Pince in the library; he won't be back for another few hours," James suggested.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Potter," Sirius jeered, handing Peter the open book.


End file.
